


loathe the way they light candles in rome

by cassandralied



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist!Sasha, Avatar!Tim, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandralied/pseuds/cassandralied
Summary: sasha's lost all her original assistants one way or another. tim's only the latest.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	loathe the way they light candles in rome

Sasha wakes up sharply to the smell of smoke.  
She’s fallen asleep on her desk, surrounded by statements. A tape recorder whirs softly, and she regards it almost affectionately, like it’s some kind of pet.  
Well, it figures that she’d grow attached to it. Who else is there?  
Melanie’s practically sealed herself away when she does bother to show up, and only talks to Basira now. Basira still regards Sasha with those searching, distrustful looks, and even as Sasha finds Daisy’s presence comforting, it comes with that same familiar worry. _Am I like you? Am I a monster?_

She looks out at the empty desks, eyes bleary with sleep. There’s Martin’s desk, still neat and organized. It stayed neat and organized even after that day in Artifact Storage, even after the Not-Them had taken him and twisted him and worn his identity and nobody had ever known until Sasha had destroyed that table, until a twisted parody of one of her closest friends was chasing her into the tunnels and cooing about how much pain the real Martin was in. (Sasha still can’t remember what he really looked like. She’s used all her archivist powers and everything, but she still can’t remember.)

Jon’s desk is messy, but Sasha knows better than to touch anything there. He’d been so paranoid after what happened to Martin, but she thinks he’d still loved them. She doesn’t know what to hope for; if it makes it worse that Jon leaving the archives to serve the Mother of Puppets was of his own free will or not.  
Mostly, she tries not to think about the last time she’d seen him. When he’d warned her to stay away from him —them —, smiling with spiders between his teeth as he watched a Stranger creature stab itself, his index finger tapping in time with the movements of the thing’s arm. 

And then there’s Tim, who died in the explosion at Nikola’s. There wasn’t even enough of him left for a funeral.

The fire alarm begins going off, and Sasha startles, almost tripping over herself o her way to the office door. How had she not heard it sooner? The archives are filled with smoke, burning statements, and she grabs a handful to stuff into her bag for safekeeping. “Shitshitshitshit,” she repeats as a constant litany, trying to salvage all the statements she can.  
Her vision is starting to blur from smoke inhalation by the time she heads for the door, clambers up the stairs. She’s on her hands and knees, coughing heavy, dry, coughs, crawling towards the entrance. That’s why at first she thinks the shadowy figures by the Institute’s doors are a smoke-induced hallucination but no, Sasha’s never been that lucky.

“You said it was empty!” calls a shorter figure —an Asian woman with close-cropped hair who Sasha’s had the unpleasantness of meeting before. Her eyes are practically glowing, the flames of her tattoo writhing on her shoulders. “There’s someone here!”  
Shit. Shit. Sasha struggles for air, tries to say something, anything, that might save her, but it comes out as a choked cough.  
Jude Perry looms over her. “We gave you plenty of time to smell the smoke, little archivist,” she says in that brittle, crackling voice of hers. “Why stay? Death wish?”

“Not a death wish,” says a painfully familiar voice, and Sasha staggers on her hands and knees to stay upright as Tim walks into view, nudges Jude companionably. “Probably stayed to save her precious statements. Am I right?”   
He smiles down at Sasha, genuine and flirty.

“Tim,” she breathes.

“Oh, I don’t have time for this,” Jude mutters, and stalks off.

Tim crouches so he’s eye level to Sasha, face serious. His eyes are molten gold, burning, burning. Her eyes are stinging, tears dripping down her chin as she hacks out another cough, so her question how could you goes unspoken.  
He takes her chin in his hand, and she can hear her flesh sizzle on contact. “I missed you,” he admits. “Even after you left me to die in a fiery mess.”  
“Tim, no.”  
“Should I do the same to you, Sasha? Or is it Archivist now?”

She pushes herself to her feet with herculean effort, staggers forward, leaning on various desks and pillars for support. Tim just watches her.   
She’s so close to the door.  
“Kind of embarrassing, isn’t it? To die like this?” He sounds so cold, so _callous_. Like he’d been hollowed out and replaced.  
Sasha stumbles, falls hard onto the marble floor. She’ll live with bruises on her knees, if she lives. Tries to crawl to the door, but her strength is leaving her. “Fucking hell, James,” she thinks she hears before everything fades out.

  
She wakes up on the steps of the Institute, and she’s not alone. Tim sits beside her, waiting as Sasha props herself up on her elbows, heaves in breaths of fresh, cool, air. He doesn’t speak.  
“You’re not coming back.” Sasha knows it, but she has to say it for herself. “Are you?”  
He shakes his head.  
“Why’d you save me?” she asks.  
Tim stares at her with those molten eyes. “I don’t know.”

He presses a quick, burning kiss to her cheek. Already, the fire trucks and ambulances are starting to pull up, and he stands to leave. “Try harder to stay alive, okay?”   
She wipes smoke and ash from her face. The spot where Tim’s kissed her tingles, but she doesn’t think it’s going to leave a mark. 

**Author's Note:**

> i am,,, physically incapable of writing anything happy for this fandom. oops.


End file.
